Within a few weeks of moving to 8th and Turner in November of 2020, I wrote an essay titled Allentown has a Noise Problem. I spent those first weeks sanding and painting -- changing a glossy mustard living room, olive green second floor and the Raspberry Cave (a bedroom with walls and ceiling in that color) into a Sherwin-Williams beige called City Loft. An astonishing level of street noise accompanied these tasks, and even after a demanding day of painting (dark ceilings were the toughest), I needed a white noise machine to fall asleep. I had not used this device since the misfortune of living next to a three story Philly rowhouse that served as party central for the Temple University Men’s Crew Team.
In that move-in November, with winter settling in, the disruptions had three main sources: Loud Cars (made that way by aftermarket exhaust systems, some sound like an assault rifle); Loud Sound Systems, the kind that shake the body panels of those same cars; and Fireworks. With the following summer, aggressive rap from outdoor parties near the corner of Lumber and Chew Streets occasionally generated decibels that were audible in my house, even with all windows closed and the air conditioning on. Noise at this level is deeply discouraging. With one exception, it’s hard to focus on anything, because you literally cannot hear yourself think. The one exception is regret – What was I thinking to buy a house in Old Allentown?
As three years passed, I grew less dependent on the white noise, and especially after ending the day with 40 minutes on a rowing machine, it became easier to fall asleep and stay that way, at least until the 4 am arrival of the dumpster trucks to the Salvation Army parking lot on the south side of Turner. Neighbors who have lived here for years tell me that Old Allentown is actually quieting down a bit, while friends at the office say I am just getting used to it.
This may be a rare situation where optimists are correct, because each time I have called the City Non-Emergency Number for noise violations (the “Noise Line”), the situation has eventually improved. Last summer I called twice. On the first occasion, a Saturday afternoon in June, a group of young men parked in the lot for Central Elementary School on N. 8th Street and spent the next hour testing the capabilities of a high watt aftermarket sound system that included a trunk filled with speakers. Police responded within 20 minutes and apparently found more than speakers filling the vehicle, because I saw several officers chasing people north on 8th Street immediately after the noise abruptly ended.
The second call to the Noise Line was during the 2022 July Fourth weekend. Understood that despite growing evidence that take-home Fireworks are the new cigarettes -- bad for the environment, bad for animals domestic and wild, and capable of inflicting grievous hearing loss -- a segment of the population remains fascinated with the M-80, and will set them off with like minded people, consequences be damned. As a result, I would have suffered the explosions for a few evenings, except that the speaker filled car that Police chased from the Central Elementary parking lot (or its evil, custom exhaust twin) came to rest at the southeast corner of 8th and Turner. At that location, it blared aggressive rap at levels that made it seem as though the front door and windows of my house, about 80 yards from the source, had suddenly been removed. It took Police about two hours to respond to my calls and emails (and those of an equally frantic neighbor on 8th Street), but then they did, the problem stopped.
My most recent call to the Noise Line was on May 11, 2023, a Thursday night and a school night, which a group near Lumber and Chew Streets decided would be the perfect occasion for music that no neighbor within a three block area could escape. I had enough after several hours of patience, and when police did not respond to my first call, I made a second with my window open, and the dispatcher could barely hear me on the phone, although the speakers were a full city block distant. That, together with an email to the police that attached a voice memo I made of the same bedlam, resulted in decisive action. To an urban resident driven to the edge by incessant noise, the sudden end of the agony is close to miraculous.
In a recent Quality of Life Public Notice, the Allentown Police confirmed that:
The City of Allentown has an ordinance that addresses loud music or noise which causes a noise disturbance at any time of the day. The police will respond to noise complaints and take the appropriate enforcement action up to and including the issuance of a sweep ticket, citation, and a DCR (Disruptive Conduct Report).
Chief of Police Charles Roca and Mayor Matt Tuerck have each publicly advised that the City will no longer tolerate excessive noise or illegal fireworks. Confirming this, the Quality of Life Public Notice concludes:
WE ASK THE PUBLIC TO PLEASE REPORT ANY VIOLATIONS TO OUR DISPATCH
NON-EMERGENCY 610-437-7751.
Bringing noise under control is indispensable if Center City hopes to attract visitors to the PPL Arena, the new DaVinci Center, the Arts Walk, and other attractions near Hamilton Street. Noise control is also essential if the City hopes to fill the many new and attractive residential buildings that have gone up on Walnut, Hamilton and Linden Streets during the past decade. As a resident of Old Allentown, I can personally confirm that if one calls the Noise Line, positive outcomes will follow. Thanks to the Allentown Police for all they do.
Richard Maurer
Old Allentown Preservation Association
July 10, 2023
